


Hanuel the Knife Fairy

by MapleThisOff



Category: Town of Salem (Video Game)
Genre: Drug Use, Fairies, Fires, Smoking, a shitpost that managed to get development, overall shitshow featuring some conflict
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-08-04 23:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16356635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleThisOff/pseuds/MapleThisOff
Summary: The serial killer goes through a sudden change, which causes problems to arise.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A 2 AM semi-shitpost idea morphed into this multi-chapter story. Surprising? I can’t really believe it either.

The crescent moon hung in the inky black night sky as Hanuel snuck through the town. The sound of crickets and other night creatures filled the air. He soundlessly crept across the stone pathways, his eyes focused on his goal. Everything was planned. The disposal method and area, the time, the location, he had it all planned out. Nothing could go wrong. Winifer’s house slowly came into view, lanterns shining through the thick, overgrown brush she hid her house in. She was just there in the town like an out of place person in the backdrop of a photo, present but never quite fitting in. Winifer was also a solid 3 feet taller than Hanuel, which was his main motivation to murder her. Everyone was taller than him; it wasn’t fair. He needed to feel powerful somehow, and murder seemed like the best option. (PSA: murder is not the way to feel tall. Just ask someone to paypal you some height.) The aromatic scent of exotic and native flowers hung over the house. From what he could see, it looked like no lights were on in the house. Silence surrounded him. He quickly scanned the area for any observers as he reached for the corpse-cold doorknob. The serial killer noiselessly opened the door and swiftly entered, reaching for the knife in his pocket.

Hanuel’s eyes searched the place, as if he were a tiger hunting for its prey. He would find her, that much was certain. The sound of shallow breathing echoed through the empty home, immediately capturing the serial killer’s attention. He hovered towards the source of the noise, holding his knife in the primal stabbing position. But the sound only led him to a wandering cat. Its amber eyes shone through the otherwise dark house, like a lantern in an empty street. 

“Fuck off cat, where’s your owner?” Hanuel hissed, straining his senses to locate Winifer. The cat’s only response was a loud meow, followed by the sound of creaking stairs. The serial killer freaked out and hid behind the large cauldron, it’s warm surface scorching his gloved hands. He bit his lip, trying to snuff out his pained screams. The sound of the footsteps sounded a lot louder to the panicking killer. He didn’t plan for this to happen. He had no idea what to do. Various thoughts flooded his mind as he fastened his grip on the knife. It was now or never. 

Hanuel leaped from behind the cauldron, coming face to face with the witch. She simply stood there, holding a spellbook against her chest like her life depended on it.

“What are you doing here? Last time I checked kids had a bedtime of 10 PM. Where are your parents? It’s way past your curfew.” She continued on and on, lecturing the short adult man about how he should be in bed and how his parents would be worried about him. Of course his dead parents would be freaking out over his missed nonexistent curfew. Without hesitation, he sliced the back of her legs, watching the woman immediately collapse onto the floor.

“Sorry, my parents are out of town.” Hanuel bluntly responded, playing along with Winifer’s whole delusion of him being a child. “Why are you awake? Don’t adults need sleep too?” The bleeding woman laughed, a sickeningly sweet smile forming on her face. 

“Aw, looks like somebody needs some rest. You seem tired.” She reached into a pocket in her dress and pulls out a small vial. It held a fluorescent blue liquid which emanated a dull glow in the otherwise lightless house. “Have some.” With her remaining strength she pried open the serial killer’s mouth and emptied the vial into it. She then immediately dragged herself away from him, blood trailing behind her. Meanwhile, Hanuel was a confused mess with a side of anger without a source. The liquid itself tasted pretty sweet, almost like a sugar syrup or child’s medicine. But he wouldn’t let the liquid distract him. He advanced towards the retreating witch, his knife ready to impale her several times. Suddenly, a sharp pain sprouted in his stomach, almost as suddenly as the witch’s collapse. He clenched his stomach and looked up at Winifer, who had begun to apply a balm of some sort on her sliced legs and was quietly chanting some unknown words. Hanuel felt like throwing up. His insides felt like they were being braided together. Feeling dizzy, the serial killer fell down, his knife clattering as it hit the ground. The world around him seemed to spin and grow as he lay there crumpled on the floor. Was he dying? Is this what death felt like? Endless questions whizzed through his mind as he tried to hold himself together. 

“You bitch, what did you do?” Hanuel barely managed to spit out amidst his pain.

“Whoa, watch your language kiddo. Physical changes to the body are painful.” Winifer calmly responded, now wrapping bandages on her formerly bleeding legs. By now Hanuel’s entire back and legs felt numb and his head pounded with onslaughts of pain. Even being stabbed and left behind to bleed out was probably less painful than whatever was happening to him. 

“Am I dying?” He asked Winifer, watching the world around him grow larger. He was probably feeling disoriented from the pain. 

“No, but you should be shrinking, if all goes well.”

“Shrinking? But I’m already short as hell, what’s the point?” He bitterly responded, still confused by what she said. The pain slowly began to lessen, but Hanuel wasn’t sure if the pain was actually alleviating or if he just grew numb to it. Either way, it was liberating. He just uncomfortably lay in the ground for a bit, waiting to regain feeling in his limbs. The serial killer took deep breaths, trying to calm his jumping nerves. He constantly shifted and turned, trying to find a comfortable position to lay down in. It felt as if something was protruding out of his back, preventing him from laying down.

“Well that’s just great.” Hanuel thought to himself, “what could possibly be bothering me now?” An eerie blue glow surrounded him, almost as if someone was shining a light onto him. The man looked back over his shoulder, searching for the light source as well as whatever prevented him from lying down comfortably. A semi-transparent set of cyan wings with red speckles in their tips shone in his eyes. 

“What. the actual. fUCK are these!?” He screamed, blinking several times trying to comprehend what he saw. “What drugs did you give me? I’m tripping out and hallucinating and not liking it one bit.” 

“It wasn’t drugs, it was a potion someone made for me.” Winifer practically towered over him. She looked like a giant even though she was sitting on the ground. 

“Why is everything so hecking big. Like, I somehow feel shorter.” Was it possible to feel shorter than 2’ 5”? Apparently so. 

“Gee I don’t know, maybe because you’re now a 4 inch fairy.” She seemed so unconcerned about the whole thing, like it was nothing new.

“I’m a what!?” The serial killer quickly stood up in alarm. He knew that supernatural phenomenon was an actual thing, hell he was standing right in front of a witch. If he was originally wanted by the town now he was probably the number one threat. Magic and murder were the two things the mayor wanted to terminate, and now he met both of those conditions. “Are you trying to get me killed? Don’t screw around with me.” Hanuel was 82% sure he was hallucinating at the moment. 

“What would I gain from lying to a child? You’re a fairy, that’s all.” The witch slid the shrunken serial killer onto her palm and stood up, as if nothing happened to him. He could finally see over a tabletop. She placed him on a table and held a mirror in front of him. Hanuel stared at the reflection, the wings on his back clear as day. He could see the knife he originally brought, which now looked like the same size as him. 

“This….can’t be real.” He quietly said, the dawning realization leaving him speechless. The serial killer just sat there, trying to process what was happening. How the hell was he supposed to murder people if a knife was taller than he was? Winifer pulled over a chair and sat down, staying at eye level with the seated fairy.

“Now do you believe me?” She asked, gently placing her hands on the table.

“You’ve just made my job so much more difficult. Now how do I stab people? My knife is taller than me!” He stood up and kicked the table. 

“Uh well....let’s see. I could give you a fairy sized knife.”

“That won’t harm anyone! I need to be able to injure someone you Harry Potter reject.” He was growing impatient with Winifer’s shenanigans. If he could murder her he absolutely would.

“I coouulld give you the ability to control knives--” She was interrupted by Hanuel’s gasp. 

“Hell YES! Give it to me.”

“IF,” She continued, completely ignoring the serial killer, “You promise to let me live. I’ve got my own plans to carry out, and my death kind of poses a hindrance to that.” Winifer reached for the spellbook that landed on the ground after she was attacked. She flipped through the pages, waiting for Hanuel’s response. He sat there, weighing the consequences of his options. Either be completely useless, or have a badass ability. The choice was pretty obvious.

“Fine. You’re on the no hit list. Just give me the knife powers and we’re good.” The witch nodded and placed her pale finger carefully onto Hanuel’s head, quietly reading out of the book in a foreign dialect. A soft red glow emanated from her finger and surrounded Hanuel, sending shivers up his spine. He just stood there silently, waiting for something to happen. Winifer pulled her hands back and sighed softly. 

“Okay, everything should be good. Just try and lift up that knife on the ground. Y’know, like a test run or something.” She pointed to the ground at the knife Hanuel brought. The serial killer put his arm out and wiggled his fingers, waiting for some hocus pocus magic to happen. Nothing moved.

“It would help if you actually told me how to do it.” Hanuel said loudly, looking disapprovingly at Winifer. She just sat there mindlessly flipping through the pages of her spellbook, not even looking up at the struggling killer.

“Look, I don’t know how. I’ve never had the ability to control knives with magic. Just like, pretend you’re lifting it up and focus a lot.” She seemed uninterested in his struggles. She fulfilled her end of the deal, nothing else really mattered to her. The serial killer ignored her and focused intensely on the knife, raising his hand. Then, almost instantaneously, the knife flew up and stuck itself into the ceiling. Hanuel swiftly brought his hand down, and the knife went down along with it, this time planting itself into the dark carpet.

“Yo, this is like, actually cool!” He continued to wave his arm around, watching the knife fly through the air like a cat chasing a laser pointer. “This whole fairy thing isn’t too bad.” At least he could finally make eye contact with people without breaking his neck trying to look up at them. 

“Well, that’s good to hear. You’ll be like that for a while. Enjoy I guess.” Winifer said, ducking as the knife flew over her head. 

“Sure. You’re definitely on the no hit list now.” Hanuel moved the new wing bones and could feel himself rise up. He and his knife flew out the door. While this whole supernatural thing would make him the mayor’s number one prioritized person to kill, it certainly was a cool thing. The wings let out a soft cyan glow as he flew back to his house, oblivious to all the changes he would encounter soon.


	2. Unlikely Alliances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanuel attempts to head home, but faces complications. Luckily or not he meets a less than normal savior.

The sky morphed into a faded pink and yellow as the sun began to rise. Hanuel navigated through the swirling branches, hanging vines, and countless thorns as he exited the witch’s brush. Everything felt so surreal. What was a small town felt like a giant city for the self proclaimed knife fairy. The light breeze felt like a strong ocean current pulling him out to sea. He struggled to keep flying. Combatting the wind wasn’t the smartest idea, especially when the wind was strong enough to send you away. Realizing just how stupid his idea was, he grabbed onto a flower and sat on one of its leaves, waiting for the breeze to pass. The flower patch looked like a giant, colorful forest to the minuscule serial killer. The environment was surprisingly peaceful; only the soft sound of the wind hung in the air. Hanuel then resumed his flight back home, staying close to the towering plants to avoid being seen. The last thing he needed was to be killed by the overly superstitious, anti-magic town members.

The sound of twigs crunching sent shocks of panic throughout his body. It sounded as if someone was running, like they had no care in the world. He quickly perched himself onto the bud of a nearby flower, hoping his humanoid features would be hidden. The footsteps created what felt like earthquakes to him, but were in reality just intangible vibrations for the normal person. Being so small made everything seem a lot bigger and more impactful than it really was, and Hanuel was learning that quickly. The surrounding flowers swayed as a young girl walked through them, her dark braids swinging as she moved. She hummed a nursery rhyme as she picked flowers and placed them in her basket. Her eyes wandered over the expanse of blossomed buds that were painted in various hues. The serial killer just prayed that she would ignore him, thinking he was a butterfly or something. Her hand looked giant as it passed by next to him and tugged a nearby flower out of the ground. Hanuel could feel his heart pound as he continued to hide himself, waiting for the danger to pass. But he didn’t have to hide for much longer.

Hanuel knew something happened when the girl’s humming stopped and was replaced by a soft gasp. What he assumed was the flower basket was haphazardly tossed to the ground and the girl sifted through her collected plants, looking for something. The serial killer desperately wanted to look, but he couldn’t risk it. Suddenly, the flower he was perched on leaned to the side. He could feel something force him off the petals, but nothing was there. It was like some invisible barrier was pushing against him. He helplessly tumbled off, muffling his screams with his shirt. Hanuel flitted his wings to avoid falling to his death, but he hit his head against something. A dull metal roof sat above him, barricading the fairy from the sky. He slowly looked around him. His view of the colorful flower patch was now replaced by the peach flesh of a hand. The serial killer sat down in stunned silence, landing on the clear bottom of his surroundings. He reached his hand out to try and touch the hand that surrounded him, but he was protected by the same invisible barrier that got him in here. Then the realization dawned on him. He was captured in a jar. Hanuel sat there helplessly as his jar prison was placed in the flower basket and hoisted up.

The ride to wherever the girl was going was rough. The basket swayed a lot and the jar shifted and rolled around. It was like a really intense carnival ride, except that it had no supports and the tracks were falling apart. The serial killer felt like he was on a sinking ship, his queasiness slowly increasing as the journey continued. When the basket finally stopped moving he sighed with relief. Hanuel poked his head up to try and see where he was. He could just barely see a door opening above the flowers that surrounded him. A much taller woman stood in the doorway, hugging the little girl as she walked in. 

“Mommy look! I found something in the flowers today!” The young girl was probably this woman’s daughter. Hanuel saw a hand grab his jar and raise him up. He quickly turned away from the mother, showing only his wings. 

“Wow, that’s a very pretty butterfly. You want to place it on the table there? I’ll take the flowers.” The mother gazed in silent awe at the cyan and red wings. She had never seen this type of butterfly in the world, let alone Salem. The daughter gently placed the jar on the table and walked off with her mother to the kitchen. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he unfurled himself and began to observe his surroundings. Various plants and other natural things lined the wall the table was placed against. There was a bookshelf with a small amount of books on it. Next to the books were a crystal ball, a picture frame, and several little crafts. It looked like a peaceful little house, like a bubble that protected its residents from the everyday chaos in Salem. But Hanuel didn’t want to stick around. He wanted to go home. He had plans to make. 

There was a knock at the door. The daughter eagerly ran up and opened it. A man stood in the doorway, and it was the ugliest man Hanuel had seen to date. His cheeks had fleshless craters in them, his hair was thick and messy, and under his bloodshot eyes were the darkest eye bags known to mankind. The man’s pale complexion certainly didn’t help his appearance, nor did the various amounts of holes scattered all over his arms. He resembled a corpse more than a human. Nevertheless, he was greeted with a smile by the girl.

“Uncle Ghostie! You’re here!” She beamed excitedly. “Mommy’s in the kitchen, she said to just wait for a bit.” The man smiled, patted the little girl’s head, and sat on the couch that was across from Hanuel. Perhaps this man would help him escape. He certainly didn’t look like the average human. Maybe it would be two supernatural buddies helping each other out. 

“Hey! Mr. Ghostie? Living corpse sir? Can you hear me?” Hanuel shouted, hoping his voice passed through the glass walls of his prison. The man looked up, unable to find the source of the senseless shouting. The serial killer needed to get his attention somehow. He pushed and kicked one side of the jar, knocking it down. It hit the table with a thud and rolled across its surface. That captured the man’s attention. He slowly got up and walked over, putting the jar back upright. Hanuel then revealed himself, and continued where he left off. “Can you get me out of here? I have places to be.” The man lowered himself so that he was at eye level with the serial killer. He blinked his bloodshot eyes, staring at him in disbelief. Then he turned to face the kitchen and shouted.

“Aye ma’am, I think this whole resurrection thing was a mistake. It’s only been 3 days and I’m already hallucinating.” He rubbed his eyes and looked at the jar again, still unable to process what he was seeing.

“Nope, I’m the real deal. An actual fairy has graced your presence. Now, when you leave, can you take me with you? Or just pop open the lid right now and I’ll head on out. Maybe—“ Hanuel’s bargaining was interrupted by the woman’s entrance. She seemed a little alarmed, but still smiled.

“Don’t worry Mr. Lacount, it’s probably just the light. You need rest. I’ll give you the supplements, just take it easy.” She handed him a vial of a substance and bid him farewell. The man began to walk away, but slid Hanuel’s jar into his vest as he left the house. While the fairy was shrouded in darkness, he quietly whispered thanks to the gods.

The door slammed shut behind the man. He shakily walked towards an abandoned house and opened the jar. Hanuel flew out and hovered close to his savior. 

“Thanks man. Really helped me out.” The serial killer kept his eyes on the man. “You’re not gonna tell anyone about me, right? I don’t need to be killed.” The fairy searched for a knife to help back up his threat, but came to no avail.

“Eh, whatever. Doesn’t really matter to me.” Mr. Lacount bluntly responded, tossing the empty jar on the ground. “I’m still trying to process the fact that you exist.”

“The feeling is mutual there. You mentioned dying before?” Was this guy really a zombie, or was it a sick joke? Hanuel could totally see this guy being an actual monster or something along those lines. 

“Long story. Not really in the mood either, still grieving and trying to walk.” He leaned against the wall of the house. “Do you have a name, or are you just a nameless alv? I’ve always thought that alvs were mostly female.”

“Look, I have no clue what an alv is.” He began, “But I’m Hanuel, and you can’t tell anyone. Like, I don’t wanna die.” He had a suspicious feeling towards this guy. Was he trying to draw information from him? Well, the serial killer decided that two could play at that game. “Who are you? Don’t recognize you.”

“Erlendr Lacount, not like it matters though. I ain’t gonna live for long.” Erlendr looked dead inside and outside. Hanuel nodded and kept a mental note of it. His murder would be arranged for quickly if need be, but it certainly didn’t seem like it would need to come to that. 

“Are you like, affiliated with the town in any way? Like, would you snitch on me to the mayor?” Hanuel tried to drill for information, to see if he could leave this guy alive. Murder in broad daylight was not his specialty, and it certainly wouldn’t help matters. 

“Nah, if anything I’d have convinced myself this was an acid trip by the time the mayor decides to associate with me. Pretty sure I’m on the safe list, since my role’s somewhat confirmed.” Erlendr pushes himself up off the wall and brushed Hanuel aside. “Didn’t you say you had to go someplace?”

“Well yeah but-“ the serial killer was interrupted by a violent coughing fit from the almost dead man. He was sure that the man coughed up an organ, but he simply took a deep breath and continued walking. 

“Then go. I have to destroy my insides some more, bye I guess”. The resurrected man walked away, leaving the serial killer alone at the empty house. He huffed and flew into the shadows, staying in them as he headed to his own house. Trying to make alliances with people was exhausting, especially with this guy who never gave a straight answer. He just wanted to go home and sleep, lowkey hoping that all of this was a dream. Hanuel believed that things couldn’t get worse today.

However, the overpowering stench of smoke proved him wrong. The fairy sighed and mentally prepared himself to deal with the shitshow that was his housemate. The only thing he didn’t know was how bad the fire damage would be. It couldn’t be that bad, right? He whispered comforting lies to himself, not ready to deal with anymore insanity today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alv- Norwegian equivalent of a fairy
> 
> Gee I wonder who will be introduced next :)


	3. Recreational Firesetting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I mean, the chapter title spells it out, right? Somethings on fire.

The rising smoke hovered just above the towering trees as Hanuel arrived at his house. His eyes stung as he tried to see what was happening. His entire house was engulfed in flames, every inch being devoured by the fire. Anger boiled inside of him as he hunted for the perpetrator of the fire. He could only make out a figure standing in front of the house, but that was all he needed to identify that person. The serial killer held his hand out, dragging a knife out of the flaming abyss that was once his home and approached the figure. 

“Andre what the fuck did you do!?” Hanuel yelled at the top of his lungs, sending the knife to fly right past him. The blade just barely missed the figure’s throat.

“Shortster? Where are you? I coulda sworn I heard ya.” Andre looked below and around him, searching for his much shorter housemate. 

“Look up asshat.” The confused man looked up at the fairy, a look of perplexion on his face.

“Hanny? What the hell happened to you? Why are you a glorified moth?” Andre waved his hand in front of him, both clearing away smoke and making sure he was awake. Andre was the homeless man that one day decided to tank at Hanuel’s house and just kind of stuck around. To this day Hanuel still had no idea why he let him in. Was it out of sympathy? Pity? The fact that he just wanted someone to talk to? He didn’t know, but whatever it was he sure regretted it.

“Long story, why the fuck is my house on fire!?” The serial killer brought the knife just under the arsonist’s chin, which caused him to shift backwards. 

“Weeeelll, I was looking for ya, like I was calling your actual name and all, but there was no response. So logically, I burned the house down to drag you out, but you didn’t come, and I was beginning to stress because who the fuck will I stay with then?” The arsonist continued rambling on about why he started the fire but Hanuel didn’t bother to listen. He was busy plotting out the various ways of how he would drag out this man’s death while the crackling of the burning house filled the background. By now the fire brought a small crowd over; it wasn’t everyday that you saw a house just burst into flames. But this was not what Hanuel wanted. Despite everything that happened he slid himself into one of Andre’s various coat pockets. It was uncomfortably hot. The mix of fire, a stuffy coat, and a generally squished atmosphere didn’t help matters. 

“Wh-what the hell pixie, what are you doing?” He squirmed as the serial killer hid in his pockets.

“Bitch, just walk away and hide or something. Getting lynched is the last thing we need.”

“Speak for yourself, getting released from this shitty existence would be a godsend.”

“Andre I swear to god GET OUT OF HERE.” Hanuel pressed the handle of a knife into his back, which finally ushered the stubborn man away from the forming crowd and into the alleyway between two nearby houses. The fairy immediately flew out, breathing heavily as he let the somewhat fresher air into his tiny lungs. The arsonist simply brushed his hands and sat down, rubbing his stinging eyes. 

“So, you wanna tell me why you’ve become even shorter? You make Oompa Loompas look like giants now.” The arsonist asked, squinting his eyes to get a good look at his exasperated housemate. 

“Shut up. It doesn’t matter. At least I can make eye contact with you now.” Hanuel flew down towards him and perched himself on his acquaintance’s knee.

“Unfortunately. But maybe it’s for the better. Don’t have to strain my neck to look down at you anymore.” 

“You do realize I control knives now. I can easily kill you.”

“You said that when I first moved in, but here I am in pristine condition. I’m disappointed, I was looking forward to that death.” Andre scoffed, a playful grin on his face. Messing with Hanuel was fun, considering how quickly he got angry. By now Hanuel began kicking his tiny legs against Andre’s knee, creating a dull, almost massage like feeling. It was surprisingly relaxing. Meanwhile, the serial killer was getting pissed. Every moment felt like his impending doom was approaching faster, and Andre’s lack of seriousness was getting on his nerves.

“Listen firehobo, I’m gonna be killed on the spot if anyone sees me like this. You gotta find us a new place and hide me.” Hanuel anxiously shifted around. It was a lot to ask for from this disaster of a human, but it was worth a shot. Considering the fact that he hadn’t sold him out yet despite all his threats of him doing so provided some hope. The arsonist simply sighed.

“Aight, but where will we go? Last I checked there haven’t been any vacant houses in habitable condition, and asking to house a fairy in someone’s house defeats the purpose of you hiding, right?” Andre did raise a solid point. No one would tolerate a fairy, not the mafia, not the other neutrals, and definitely not the town. The controversy surrounding the supernatural certainly posed some complications. He racked his brain for answers. Maybe the witch would let them in? Hanuel scrapped that idea. The arsonist would probably trigger an explosion or something with all the potions and herbs she has there. The serial killer sighed.

“I don’t know. Maybe staying in that jar was a good idea.” At that moment a thought popped into his mind. Maybe that corpse guy would be willing to do them one more favor. “Actually, I think I have an idea. I already ran into someone on the way here, so they’ll probably be the best bet for housing. You know about corpse guy?” Andre, who was now just drawing spiral patterns into the dirt, looked up in confusion.

“Corpse guy? You mean those people who bury other people?”

“No, I mean a legitimate corpse.”

“I’m starting to think this is all a fever dream Mr. tinkerbell knockoff.” Andre buried his head into his knees, mumbling some unknown words. Hanuel ignored him and continued trying to figure out his shelter plan.

“Whatever man, do you know where ah….the Lacount household is?” The serial killer prayed that Andre knew something. He always had knowledge regarding the layout of the town, but that was about it.

“Didn’t both of them die a while back? Pretty sure their house is cursed by the performer’s ghost or something, at least that’s what I’ve heard.” Andre poked his head up and looked at the fairy who was now standing on his arm. 

“Well, one of them came back, kind of. Whatever it doesn’t matter do you know where their house is?” Hanuel impatiently tapped his foot while his accomplice looked off towards the town square, where they were just now attempting to extinguish the fire. 

“Uh, I think their house was the one next to the spy’s. But I could be wrong. It’s probably the most beat up house that still has residents in it if what you’re saying is true.” The smoke scented man still doubted that one of the Lacounts had returned. He was certain both of them were lynched, hell he was there during both of those. But Hanuel wasn’t the type to play pranks, that was more up Andre’s alley. He stood up without warning, causing his fairy friend to stumble off, but he quickly recovered mid fall and his inside his pocket again. 

“Can you go there quickly? I hate hiding in this spot; it’s too hot.”

“Just like me, figured you’d notice.”

“Shut up, people will think you’re insane; it looks like you’re talking to yourself.”

“Well maybe you should stop talking. Ever thought about that, moth?” Andre smiled, and walked past the charred mass that was once Hanuel’s home. But there were still more problems on the horizon besides the lack of a home. As the town officials began sifting through the remains of his house, the lack of the corpse of its owner would bring some suspicion. No one had seen him leave the house, but that would only cause more complications than benefits. The two men continued bickering while walking away, while the investigator scribbled down some notes as he stood amidst the burnt wood and ash. A search for Hanuel would be on, whether he wanted it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear we’re getting to actual conflict soon trust me. School’s been getting a bit hectic, so updates aren’t going to be very frequent. Still plan on finishing this though ; )


	4. Interrogations and Smartassery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andre has one (1) job, and it kind of works out.

The scent of smoke still hung in the air, serving as a bitter reminder of the serial killer’s situation. Hanuel poked his head out of the arsonist’s stuffy pockets, trying to get some fresh air. The coat swayed as Andre leisurely strolled through the town.    
  
“Could you walk any slower? At this rate, I’ll melt in this hellhole before we cross the lynching podium.” The fairy let his arm dangle, trying to cool down.    
  
“Oh, that would be a disaster. You’d ruin my pockets.”    
  
“They’re already pretty fucked, I can tell you that much.” He shuffled around, trying to rest somewhat comfortably against the lighter and matches surrounding him. Tiny specks of light decorated the dark interiors from the holes burnt into the fabric.    
“Just find the house, that’s all I ask of you.”    
  
“Oh, so I act as a free taxi, and this is how you treat me?” The arsonist brushed his knuckles against the pocket, crashing against the serial killer’s body.    
“I didn’t know gremlins had the rights to do that.” Hanuel didn’t have to see the arsonist’s face to know that he probably had that mischievous grin and spark in his eyes that would start the fires of conflicts. He could feel the smugness radiating from him.    
“Hey, while you’re in there, could you pass my lighter?”   
  
“No.”   
  
“Consider it as a payment for me. Besides, would you prefer me shoving my hand into your face?”   
  
“Fucking bitch.” The serial killer muttered, wrapping his tiny arms around the lighter, it’s metallic surface still warm and oily. Begrudgingly, he pulled it towards the opening of the pocket, nearly being dragged out along with it when Andre took it.    
  
“Language, pixie.”   
  
“You’re the last person who should talk about language, you barely know English.”   
  
“Yet I sound more…” He paused to click the lighter a few times, trying to figure out what he was saying. “Smart, that’s the word. I sound more smart than you.” The flame lit up the end of the cigarette he held between his teeth.     
  
“You really don’t, you sound like—“ The serial killer was interrupted by the sudden pressure of Andre’s hand holding the pocket shut. If he wasn’t feeling cramped earlier, he most certainly was now. The rough fabric scratched against his skin, yet he couldn’t move it.   
  
“Excuse me, but I believe you were one of the residents of the house that recently burned down, correct?” Upon hearing those words Hanuel stopped struggling, instead deciding to remain silent. His banter could wait, right now his main focus was listening to what the investigator was saying.    
  
“Yeah, sure. What about it?” Andre replied, blowing some smoke in between them.    
  
“I just have some questions for you, you wouldn’t mind taking some time to come with me?”    
  
“Actually I do mind, whatever that means. Fuck off, would ya?” He began to walk away, but was dragged back by his interrogator.    
  
“Just come down to the office with me, it won’t take long.”    
  
“But isn’t the office to the left? Not exactly down.” If Hanuel wasn’t forced to stay confined in silence, he would have screamed at these comments. Was he being a smartass, or was he genuinely that stupid? He hoped it was the former. There was no response from the investigator, he simply dragged the arsonist to his office, briskly walking past the lynching podium to the only building that looked to be in pristine condition. The neat, proper office starkly contrasted the damaged and dreary houses that surrounded it. It felt out of place, almost too perfect for the shambles that made up the town. The arsonist was pushed through the doorway, the door clicking shut behind him.    
  
“Sit down, I’ll just get some papers ready.” Andre nodded and carefully sat in the leather armchair, glancing at his surroundings. Various books lined the shelves, not like he could read them. But they were aesthetically pleasing. The only sounds in the room were the sound of fingers flipping through papers and the drumming of the arsonist’s fingers against the armrest. “Also, did you not see the ‘no smoking’ sign?”   
  
“A sign never stopped me, can’t read.”   
  
“It’s a picture.” The investigator sighed as he brought out a pen and several papers. “Anyways, do you know the source of the fire?”    
  
“Hmm,” The arsonist’s thumb twitched as he idly twirled his cigarette. “Grease fire. Fucked up while cooking, and you know what happened from there.”   
  
“But it was a rather large fire. The whole house went down.”   
  
Andre simply shrugged. “Shit happens, what can you do about it?” The scratching of the pen against paper sent a slight shiver down his back. No verbal response or movements for him to figure out what was happening. Just the foreign scriptures of English on the paper in front of him. He would need more cigarettes after this.   
  
The rest of the interrogation was the same repetitive loop: a simple question, a quick answer, an awkward silence. But the fairy couldn't help but feel tense, even though Andre kept his answers vague enough to not raise suspicion over anyone.    
  
And then the last question struck him.   
  
“What about your housemate, Hanuel Wicare? Where was he during the fire? We haven’t been able to locate him.”    
  
The arsonist stopped his ceaseless finger drumming upon hearing the question, unsure how to answer. Meanwhile, the serial killer could feel his pulse quicken. He didn’t plan for this, he didn’t figure out an alibi yet. It wasn’t ideal for him to just fly out and tell him what to say, but he had no other way of communication. Hanuel simply sat down and hoped he could rely on his partner in crime to say something he.   
  
“Ah, well…” Andre began, forming some sort of elaborate lie in his head. He didn’t know what the serial killer wanted him to say, but nor did he really care. But he couldn’t know that. He was trusted with this task, a sign that his plan was working. Failure wasn’t an option now. Trying to make the situation less abnormal, he responded.    
“I didn’t see him, couldn’t find him either.” He tried to mask his nervousness with a smile. “If anything, he’s probably burnt up in there. His corpse would’ve been so small that you thought he was some furniture.” He derived some form of comfort in taking jabs at his much shorter housemate, especially when he couldn’t do anything about it. The arsonist could feel the anger bubble inside of the fairy, at least that was predictable enough.    
  
“But we were unable to find a body through the rubble.” The investigator looked up from his notes for the first time, skepticism painting his face.   
  
“I didn't say rubble, I said in the house, god are you deaf? He was probably in the house.” He was confused as to why his interrogator was rubbing his temples like he was disappointed and dealing with a child, but that wasn’t important.    
  
“You know what, nevermind. So you didn’t see him at the time of the fire.”   
  
“Yea, but he was probably home. He doesn’t leave the house because people keep thinking he’s my son.” He clapped his hands while laughing. “He has to follow the ‘kid can’t leave during specific time’ rule, can you believe that? No way he was out.”    
  
“Do you mean curfew?”   
  
“Did I stutter? I meant what I said.” Andre pushed himself away from the desk, standing up and extinguishing the cigarette on a paper nearby. “Anyways, is this done? Can I leave?” The investigator sighed and took a deep breath, sliding the burnt paper aside before looking up at him.   
  
“Sure, you’re free to go. I might call you back later though, don’t be surprised.”   
  
“I’m free? I was certain I had some price, I’m not a whore.” And with that the arsonist hastily left, slamming the office door shut behind him. Upon entering the outdoors, he let out a sigh of relief and lit another cigarette. Hanuel poked his head out of the pocket, briefly checking the area before flying up and settling on Andre’s shoulder.    
  
“Look Hanny, I better get some prize for this, I can’t deal with this shit anymore.” He blew smoke at the fairy’s face, resulting in coughing and watering eyes.   
  
“Yeah yeah, he’s still suspicious of us, you heard him. Probably planning your lynching now.”    
  
“Not like you told me what to say, I just did what felt right.”   
  
“And how did that turn out?”   
  
“Well, we both are alive, so pretty good.” Andre began walking again, and the serial killer quickly latched onto his host’s hood.   
  
“That’s the bare minimum. Can you please go to the zombie’s house now? I can’t stand hiding in that awful coat any longer.”   
  
“Which house was that again?”   
  
“The one near the spy’s. I thought you said you knew.”   
  
“Look, my memory sucks, been so long since we decided that.”    
  
“Whatever dumbass, get moving.”    
  
The two of them kept talking as they walked through the streets, accompanied only with each other and the words they exchanged. And yet, despite burying themselves under the comfort of familiar exchanges, Hanuel could feel the prick of paranoia in his side, almost like someone was there, watching them intently. But when he turned his head there was nothing except the occasional flower petal floating through the air.    
  
Meanwhile the investigator looked over his notes once more. Andre seemed to be honest enough, he didn’t seem like the type of person to have enough brainpower to form a massive lie. But for some reason, he still felt like he was hiding something. There had to be something else involved here, there had to be a reason some of the answers were so vague or didn’t even answer the question. If anything, now he was more curious. The man rubbed his eyes once more, attempting to stay awake as he slid the notes into a file simply labeled ‘fires’. He would have to look into it later. For now his main concern was getting a coffee and resting for whatever little break he had before being thrown into another murder case investigation or missing person incident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “If you want you can insult me or unfollow me, I was a bitch” (Dae 2019).
> 
> Yeah, I don’t have an excuse, please take this measly offering.  
> The next part will come out much sooner, trust me ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I don’t know why this exists either. Don’t expect a schedule for updates on this, I’ll try my best to update once a month though.


End file.
